


Late Night Calls

by greenkangaroo



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen, and I alway thought I would write more but I don't think I will, and it's the only HP thing I ever wrote, and strange, have an HP thing, so here everyone, this is short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenkangaroo/pseuds/greenkangaroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the phone rings late at night, it is normally bad news. </p><p>Normally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Calls

When the phone rang late, it was normally bad news. Harry Potter knew this. He knew it like he knew the exact moment to throw the disarming spell, like he could sense an incoming Dementor, like he could smell evil. Late phone calls meant trouble.

Of course most, if not all, of Harry’s associates used floo powder to make phone calls; those few who had muggle mobiles were often finding that they blinked out at the most inopportune times. However, since technology could be just as handy as magic in a pinch, Harry had a landline AND a mobile, and sometimes, his friends even figured out how to use them.

The caller ID informed Harry that this wasn’t a fellow Auror, or a Representative of the Ministry, or a Weasley. It was-

“..Dudley?”

-Harry.- Dudley’s voice had deepened a nearly ridiculous amount in the years since they had lived together. He sounded hoarse. He sounded _scared._

Harry Potter pulled himself out of bed, careful not to jostle his wife, sleeping soundly beside him. He ran a hand through his hair and made his way downstairs. “Dudley, it’s almost three in the morning, what’s going on?” 

Harry and his cousin had been speaking cordially for years, though they didn’t visit often; he knew that Dudley had a job and a home far from Privet Drive. Dudley knew about the bare minimum of Harry's employment and its requirements. It worked out for them. 

-I know it’s bloody late. Julia told me to call earlier but I- well I’ll be honest I’m a bit sloshed right now, Harry.- It was true, he’d broken into the brandy before calling.

Harry winced and settled into the old sagging leather chair by the window, turning on a table lamp. “Dudley, why are you drunk dialing me?”

-Harry, we got a letter today.-

“Oh?” For one moment Harry hoped fervently that Vernon had dropped dead of a coronary but banished the thought; what his relatives did now was none of his business.

-I, I say we that’s not right- Harry, Bishop got a letter today.-

“Bishop- your son? But he’s only about...twelve..”

-...a screech owl dropped it on his head in the park, Harry. In broad daylight.-

“..Dudley-”

-Harry I don’t know what to do.- in his own den, miles from his cousin, Dudley Dursley was pacing back and forth in front of the gas fireplace, running his hand through his hair. On the mantle were pictures- Dudley with a beautiful dark haired girl, that same girl with a tiny baby, that baby much bigger and waving happily from a swing set. -I- you just left. There was no planning, no background, that great bloody bloke picked you up and away you went. You came back for the summer, you left in the fall and between? I didn’t know where the feck you were.-

Harry frowned. “Dudley..”

-We’ve got to plan we’ve got to get- I don’t know where to get these things, Harry, I don’t even know where to go to post an answer back, and they need it by the thirty first! Do I- is there owl..chow or something? He’s going to need books and a blasted wand and cauldrons come in _specific sizes_ good lord and I know your money’s not the same, we’ve got plenty of funds but how do we change it? and-

“You’re letting him go?” Harry asked, startled at how surprised he was. 

-Well of bloody course I’m letting him go!- Dudley exclaimed. -After you? After all this, everything- how could I not?-I just- I should have- 

Dudley sat down heavily in his arm chair.

-Why didn’t I know, Harry? Did I not pay enough attention? I- my son- Christ Harry I don’t know what to do. I’m his father, I have all the answers. But.. but I don’t. And what the hell am I going to tell Dad? Harry I need your help.-

“..Dudley I’ll call you in the morning, alright? Get some sleep. I promise you, I’ll help.”

Dudley practically deflated in relief. -..thank you, Harry.-

“Not a problem, Dudley. Now go to bed. And tell Julia when you wake up that I’ll help you settle.”

-I will. I- really. Thank you, Harry.-

“You’re welcome. Promise not to drunk dial me again?”

-This is _sloshed_ dialing there is a difference.-

“Whatever. Night, Dud.”

-Goodnight, Harry.- Dudley Dursley hung up the phone and looked around his den. He picked up his tumbler of brandy and finished it in a single swallow, then turned off the lights, turned down the fireplace, and ascended the stairs. In the room at the end of the hall Julia was sleeping peacefully. Dudley paused outside of his son’s room and opened the door. He looked over the desk, the computer, and finally his son, already huge for a twelve year old, sleeping with his back to the door.

Dudley spotted the letter pinned to the cork board above the desk. In the dark the green ink seemed to shine (and who was to say it didn’t? It was magic, after all.)

_‘Dear Bishop Dursley,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..’_

**Author's Note:**

> Since the chances of me ever working on this story again are zero to nill, the answers to any burning questions:  
> -Bishop Dursley is a Hufflepuff.  
> -He spends his time not studying making delicious baked goods and getting frowned at by House Elves.  
> -He grows up to become a sort of jolly potbellied magical Indiana Jones.  
> -He has a large grumpy tomcat named Solomon.  
> -redwood. unicorn hair. thirteen inches, good for breaking curses.  
> -people accuse him of being part giant. He got Dudley' shoulders.


End file.
